Missing Marionette
by Lazy Cakes
Summary: Percival has been trapped in his own home for months, and is almost ready to give up when Grindelwald brings him a 'gift'.
1. Chapter 1

Percival Graves didn't know what had happened. He never knew what happened.

He just knew that he heard the _crack_ of Grindelwald apparating into the front room, and the _thunk_ as he dropped into the armchair that had once been Percival's, and Grindelwald's voice, stunted in masochistic glee.

"Percy, won't you come out? I've brought something for you."

Percival stared at the wall across from him, paper peeling, splattered with blood.

He stood slowly, glass and rotten wood crunching under him.

This room was the only one in the apartment so destroyed; Grindelwald repaired the rest of it often, but he let Graves' office stay like this, a reminder of the countless hours he had spent trapped in it.

Limping slightly, painfully aware of his still-broken rib, Percival stumbled into the main room.

Grindelwald was reclined in the leather chair directly across from the hall, eyes glimmering cruelly.

There was a corpse in his lap.

A body, limp, pale, dark hair, blood on his skin.

" _Credence."_

"Ah, ah, ah." Grindelwald tutted, paralyzing Percival with a flick of his wand as the man lunged forward, more strength in his body than he'd had in months.

Percival fought against the magic keeping him still with everything he had, the agony in his chest having nothing to do with the broken bone.

He couldn't look away.

Credence was as thin as he had been when Percival first met him, the small amount of strength that had developed over the time he had spent with him stripped completely. His face was cut and his palms were coated with fresh scars, traveling up his wrists and still bloody.

His chest shuddered with a weak breath.

" _Credence."_ Percival croaked, unable to move in any other way.

Grindelwald hummed shortly and began to stroke the top of Credence's leg idly.

"He's a sweet one. Timid. You were right about him, and now he's going to be staying here with you-for awhile. How lucky you are."

"What did you do to him?"

Percival demanded, struggling again, failing to make progress again. Grindelwald chuckled, deep in his chest.

"The better question is, what did _you_ do to him? You know that out there, I'm you. He's incredibly powerful to still be alive; he was very nearly destroyed."

Credence made a weak sound of discomfort as Grindelwald dug his fingers into his side, ducking over him and breathing against his neck, observing his face.

"Leave him alone!" Percival snarled, and his struggle suddenly gained him a step forward. Grindelwald tutted again, and Percival was forced to his knees.

"It's far too late for that, Graves. He must be _trained_. But he cannot lose control while he's learning."

Behind Percival, cupboards in the kitchen opened and closed as if Grindelwald was searching for something. He hummed again. "A man so successful as yourself doesn't have a single sedative potion? It's no wonder you were so easy to take, you're unprepared for anything."

Percival ignored the insult.

"I swear on my life, if you poison him-"

"-Oh, come on, did you honestly think he could be trained as he is? He's far too unstable. And anyway, it's not poison; we're just going to keep him calm. In time, he will see just as I do. He will be _harnessed_ for our cause."

Grindelwald looked down at the limp doll of a human in his lap, and Percival saw the hunger in his eyes.

"Leave him alone. You can't brainwash him."

"I already have." Grindelwald sneered, though it quickly lost venom. "Well, I thought I had, but outside influence has made him weak. That's why he's here, with you; you're both dead men. Nobody will look here, nobody can influence this place but me."

 _Leave him alone,_ Graves wanted to scream. _Leave my boy alone_.

But he knew that anything he did for Credence could put him at risk.

"What could you possibly want with an untrained wizard? He's terrified of his magic, and has no ability to use it." Percival tried.

Grindelwald laughed, a sharp, piercing sound.

"Really, now, I thought you were a more intelligent man than that, Percy."

Grindelwald traced Credence's jaw with his fingertips, letting his nails dig into the already-bruised flesh. His gaze seemed to soften as it focused on Credence, though it was in no way innocent. "He's the thing that's been attacking your city. He's the Obscurus."

Percival stared. _You're completely insane,_ he wanted to say, but he somehow knew Grindelwald wasn't lying.

It didn't matter; Grindelwald was talking again, not waiting for Percival to react. "He trusts you. He trusts you more than anyone else, so he's going to stay here, and you're going to keep him grounded. I know you will, because he'll kill you and destroy this entire building if you can't. He doesn't have the control not to."

As he spoke, Grindelwald stood, and propped Credence up in the chair. The boy made a sound in his chest, weak and pained.

Grindelwald turned to face Graves and sneered. He knotted his hand into Percival's hair and jerked his head up, forcing him to look at Grindelwald's face. "Do not try to interfere with his magic. I am going to teach him how to harness his Obscurial; do not try to turn him against me."

With another _crack_ , Grindelwald was gone, and Graves was free to move.

His immediate freedom made him crumple to the ground, and he scrambled forward.

" _Credence."_

His hands found the sides of the boy's face and held it even as he inspected him worriedly.

Though unconscious and slightly battered, he seemed to be in no mortal danger.

Percival felt some twisted form of relief, something he hadn't known in months, and he felt comfort in immeasurable content as Credence huffed another breath, a feeling Percival knew he would not forget even to his dying day.

He began to cry weakly, silently, holding Credence close.

Graves remembered the day he had been captured, and saw his own face on Grindelwald's body. His first and most pressing thought was of Credence, and so much of the madness that had destroyed him from then on was not knowing what happened to the boy, not being there for him, not watching over him.

He lifted Credence-though he filled his arms, he was as light as a child, sickly and drawn-out-and breathed him in.

Credence was _real_ , he was _here_ , and Percival was going to keep him _safe_.

No matter what.

Percival stood slowly, the boy cradled to his chest, and stumbled into his own bedroom.

He hadn't _actually_ slept in months, easily, and he struggled with getting the sheets back before dumping Credence onto the mattress.

He nursed his side as he knelt, stroking the hair away from Credence's temples.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Sir, would you take a moment to…"_

 _The boy paused, strangely surprised. It seemed as if he wasn't expecting Graves to actually stop. He pulled his scarf taught as he looked the boy over. He was standing in the frigid New York wind in a threadbare jacket, pants that only just scraped his ankles, but he wasn't trembling, though he seemed deathly pale, his lips almost purple. He had a downright offensive haircut hiding under an out-of-style hat, and he curled into himself timidly, arms full of green leaflets._

" _To what, now?" Graves asked, soft. The boy had magic in his blood, it practically radiated off of him, but there was something else that made the magic in Graves' own body want to run away._

" _To, uh, to consider the message of the Second Salem." The boy's voice pitched anxiously, and he extended one of the leaflets._

 _An anger Graves had never known filled his chest as he took the paper from the boy and saw the marks on his palms, red and raw against pale skin. It was not abated as he actually looked over the paper; some kind of no-maj insanity, barking about witches having made covenant with the devil, an illustration of a burning woman covering the lower half of the paper._

 _He made brief eye contact with the boy, before he dropped his head submissively, almost bracing himself as if Graves was going to hit him._

 _The boy's eyes had pleaded for help, beautiful and doey, but terrified, caged._

" _Are you a part of this movement?" Graves asked, trying to sound casual. The boy tensed even more, as if he'd never spoken to someone for even this long._

" _Uh...y-yes." The boy said slowly. "My ma is the founder."_

 _Graves' wand twitched from where it was tucked into his jacket. This boy was pureblood; there was no way his mother was anti-magic._

Must be adopted _, Graves thought._

" _Interesting. What does your ma teach?" Graves inquired casually._

 _The boy's face sullened. He wasn't really a boy, Graves thought, but a young man, but he held all of himself guarded._

" _There are witches, in this world." The boy began, his voice monotone as if reciting. "They seek to destroy the work of good men and women, and must be discovered and contained. There is real danger to their dark magic."_

 _Graves crossed his arms._

" _Do you believe what your ma says?" He asked calmly._

 _The boy twitched, jaw clenching. He held the leaflets closer, tucking his head over them._

" _She's my ma," he said carefully. "...of course I do."_

 _Graves fought the urge to call the boy out on his lie._ I can't help if I don't know _, he wanted to say._

" _Okay." Graves conceded. "Though, I should like you to know, if you are ever in need of help, there are police all over the city."_

 _The boy made eye contact with him again, curious and slightly accusational._

" _Why would I need the police?"_

 _Graves did his best to shrug nonchalantly._

" _Just in case. What is your name, young man?"_

 _The boy dropped his gaze again, shivering almost imperceptibly._

" _Credence, sir. Credence Barebone."_

" _Credence." Graves repeated, tasting the name. "Credence, my name is Percival Graves. It was nice to meet you."_

 _Credence straightened just a bit._

" _Thank you for your time, Mr. Graves."_

"...Mr. Graves?"

Credence groaned. His voice was weak, hardly there, not yet aware. Percival all but shouted, jumping forward. He had collapsed on the ground next to the bed, and it seemed like midday outside.

"Credence! Are you alright?"

"You lied to me, Mr. Graves." Credence's voice became distressed, and he struggled to sit up.

"Credence, don't move yet, you seem injured...what did you say?"

Graves had reached out to press Credence gently back to the mattress, but paused. Credence glared at him, eyes that were once soft and cautiously curious now malevolent, pained.

"You promised to help me...said I could control my magic...but you lied. You... _hit me…_ "

"Credence, I swear to you, I would never lay a hand on you. I've been-I've been trapped, here-"

"-I trusted you." Credence whimpered, and his muscles twitched weakly. He seemed to vibrate, almost, and Graves remembered what Grindelwald had said.

 _He's the Obscurus_.

"Credence," Graves began, reaching out. The boy flinched horribly, and Graves pulled his hand back like he had bitten. "Credence, I don't know what happened, but I promise, I would never hurt you. I've been trapped here for...months, I assume."

Credence's voice seemed multiplied, warped.

"I killed her...I finally did it...I killed her…" Credence began to mumble weakly, attempting to roll onto his side. His arms twitched pitifully.

"...Credence..?"

There was a _crack_ from the living room, and Graves spun about, arms out as if shielding Credence.

Grindelwald's steps echoed down the hall, something else clinking.

He stood in the doorway, the last of his hair fading back to blond.

The man smiled in a cruel, sadistic sort of way, holding two jars in one hand and tapping them against one another.

"Credence!" He cried jovially, as if greeting an old friend after weeks apart. The boy flinched, forcing himself to sit up with a pained sound.

"Who are you?" He asked calmly, holding his hands against his chest tightly.

Grindelwald stepped into the room further, giving Graves a dangerous look before shifting his attention back to the Obscurial. Graves refused to move.

"I saved you from the train, my boy, don't you remember? You ran away, to the subway, and I managed to get you out of the way. I'm glad I did, I must admit; you're a very special young man."

Credence looked from Grindelwald to Graves and back.

"Mr. Graves was in the subway. And there was another man...in a blue coat. I've never seen you before."

"Credence, I told you, that wasn't me; I've been trapped here, and he's stolen my-"

"-My, now, let's not _overwhelm_ you, Credence."

Grindelwald jabbed his wand into Graves' chest, pressing against the broken rib. "I've got some medicine for the poor child, won't you move aside, Graves?"

"Credence is not a child. That is not medicine."

Grindelwald's smile twitched.

"Graves, you know as well as I that I'm not a terribly patient man. Get out of my way. Look at the boy; he's covered in cuts and bruises, and I'm not heartless. He needs healing."

"I'm right _here_." Credence snapped. "I don't know you. I don't want to be here."

His voice was distorted almost beyond recognition, and Graves felt something sharp against his back before Grindelwald flicked his wand and the boy fell silent.

He stepped past Graves, who tried to lunge for him. Grindelwald had him frozen in an instant, too, tutting angrily.

"Now, really, Graves. Did you think that would work? I don't need to hear you anymore."

He turned to Credence, who seemed somehow less than himself. The space directly around him seemed entirely coated in shadow, his eyes totally white and his hair and clothes frozen in place where they looked like they had been blown back. "Now, Credence," Grindelwald began to preen, like a proud parent unwilling to reprimand his child, "you're hurt, and I can't in good conscience just set you loose when you're injured. Where would you go, anyway? You don't belong in the muggle world; you're a wizard, and once you can control yourself, we will finally emancipate _all_ wizards. Aren't you sick of hiding who you are, sweet boy?"

As Grindelwald spoke, he knelt on the mattress just above Credence's eye level, tracing his jaw with his thumb, wiping blood away, the other hand straightening his collar.

Graves tried to scream, swear, do anything at all.

How _dare_ Grindelwald touch Credence, like it hadn't been something Graves had worked for _months_ at, how _dare_ he speak to Credence like he was talking to a toddler-Credence was _not_ Grindelwald's 'sweet boy'.

He was Graves'.

"Please, Credence, let me heal your wounds. Let me give you medicine. You'll feel so peaceful, I promise." Grindelwald held Credence's neck in some sick corruption of the way Graves would, eyes glinting as he watched the darkness fade back into Credence. "That's it, good job."

He took Credence's wrist and held it out, pulling his sleeve up. Credence thrashed suddenly against the spell holding him in place, the effort in his body clear but the outward success invisible. Grindelwald let go, holding his hands out. "Okay. Alright. Let's do your medicine first, hmm? You won't be able to feel your wounds after, would you prefer that?"

It didn't matter if Credence agreed or not; he couldn't have made it known. Grindelwald pulled the lid to the first jar open; it was some kind of potion Graves didn't recognize, one that bubbled eagerly and shifted hue from gold to red. Grindelwald produced a syringe and filled it, and began again to stroke Credence's jaw before pressing his thumb against his lip. With his wand in the same hand as the syringe, he managed to pry Credence's mouth open. "You have lovely teeth, Credence; do you know that? Come on, now, let's have you be a good boy."

Grindelwald pressed the syringe into Credence's mouth, watching his lip tremble.

Graves assumed that Credence swallowed the 'medicine'; he couldn't see, but Grindelwald hummed again and withdrew the syringe, stroking over Credence's lovely lip once more. Making sure that he was fully in Credence's view, he flicked his wand a few times dramatically. The jar disappeared, the syringe cleaned itself, and the second jar opened itself.

Credence was unimpressed, Graves knew; he had taught the boy how to do much more complicated things, first with Graves' wand and then without one at all. The boy could set bones and start fires and create water all with the magic in his body unchanneled. But Grindelwald didn't know that, and Graves was certain he was thinking that Credence would swoon if he wasn't frozen in place.

"Alright, now, just one more." Grindelwald coaxed, drawing a liquid that looked almost like molten mercury from the second jar, far less than he had drawn from the first one. "This is more concentrated, and it'll make you feel very calm, all your anxiety will go away."

He stroked Credence's hair back as he pressed the syringe into his mouth again, and kept brushing his fingers through Credence's hair as he withdrew the syringe again.

Almost immediately, Credence's eyelids fluttered, and Grindelwald closed the boy's mouth.

He lifted Credence's sleeve again, tracing the wounds with his fingers before dragging his wand against Credence's flesh, cuts fading away into pale skin. Credence made a sound, some kind of weak protest, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and Grindelwald was already moving to the other arm.

He released Credence from his petrification and he went limp into Grindelwald's waiting arms, making no noise and giving no indication of consciousness.

Graves pulled again at his own invisible binds, hoping that they might have weakened, but if anything, they were stronger.

"Something you want to say, Percy?" Grindelwald lilted, turning to look at him while pressing Credence's face against his own chest. He twisted the wand in his fingers and Graves stumbled to the ground, still holding the momentum from his failed attack.

" _Bastard!"_

Grindelwald laughed, letting Credence crumple to the mattress as he dropped him carelessly.

"I am? I'm not the one who led the boy on for months. I know what you did; you gave him just enough attention and care that he was dependent upon you, but you hardly had to do anything. I'm the bastard, while you let him go home every day to a woman who beat the life out of him because he was out late, being with you? _I'm_ the bastard?"

Grindelwald sneered, smoothing his hair back. "If you're so concerned for the boy, why did you never actually report him to MACUSA? No, you liked him being dependent upon you, I'm sure. But yes, I guess I must be the bastard for how I've treated him."

With a final chuckle of "I'll be back when he wakes", Grindelwald disappeared.

 _Oh, god. He was right, wasn't he?_

It must have been made worse that Graves didn't regret it. He didn't regret swooping in and pulling Credence away. He didn't regret not reporting him, because that would have meant Credence would be taken away from him by the system.

He did regret not reporting him, though. If he had reported Credence, he would have been taken away from Mary Lou, would have been taken away from the no-maj's who wanted to destroy him without knowing it, would have been brought to the world he belonged in.

But he would have been separated from Graves.

There was still the room across the hall.

 _Graves was going to steal Credence if he had to. If he couldn't escape Mary Lou on his own, Graves absolutely was going to steal that boy away from her. She didn't deserve him._

 _Not like Graves deserved him any more, he later thought._

 _He unrolled his sleeves as he looked around, admiring his work._

 _The room used to be a linen closet; now, with some clever spells and a book titled_ Modern Living: When Your Wand Can Cover Your Budget _, it was a cozy spare bedroom. There were large windows looking out over an imaginary field of carnations, bobbing happily in the imaginary wind; there was a bed in one corner, actually long enough for Credence's lean body and dressed with fluffy, happy pillows; there was a desk across from it, a few books stacked on top about the basics of magic, a small model globe that spun lazily and could speak the language of any country suspended above them; in the corner next to the door, a wardrobe, large enough to hold new clothes that would be warm and well-made._

 _If Credence agreed, he would never have to sleep on that cot he called a bed again._

 _He would never have to be afraid of his magic again._

 _He would never have to wear clothes that were too thin and too small ever again._

 _He would never have to be away from Graves ever again._

 _Graves tucked that last thought away; he only intended to give the boy a safe space, teach him the basic magic he should know, and give him the freedom to explore the world he utterly deserved._

 _He hoped for an outcome far more selfish, he knew, but he couldn't have forgiven himself if it actually came to be._

 _He would never know what would have happened, either way._

 _As Graves looked around the room one final time, there was a_ crack _in his living room, the first of many._

 _Graves flattened against the wall, wand at the ready._

" _Mr. Graves? Mr. Graves, I'm sorry to intrude like this, but it's an emergency-that Second Salem woman, I-I lost control...I-I'm sorry, but I really, really need your help…"_

" _Goldstein, what happened?"_

 _Graves relaxed at the sound of Tina's voice coming from his living room. He swung into the hallway and went out to meet her._

 _There was a sharp flash of light and Graves was suddenly aware of his lungs. It felt like they were exploding out of his chest, and as he collapsed pitifully, unable to even put up a fight, he saw him._

 _Gellert Grindelwald sneered from the center of his living room, holding a small metal horn shaped like the top of a gramophone, Tina's voice still stumbling out of it._

There was still the room across the hall.

Graves wrapped his arms around Credence and pulled him close, gasping around the pain.

There was still the room across the hall.

Graves crawled up into the bed, tucking Credence under the sheets and heavy comforter, a hand on the boy's chest, watching his breathing.

There was still the room across the hall.

Graves fell asleep, hating himself for ever leaving Credence behind.


End file.
